Chuck Versus the Reunion
by AffinityTheBard
Summary: Set after the series finale, Sarah Walker still doesn't remember falling in love with and marrying Chuck Bartowski. She's tried to find herself by herself for years while Chuck has waited for her to come back on her own. But now, ready or not, there's a new mission, a couple old flames, and of course the Bartowski Clan to give the couple a nudge or ten. If they survive.
1. Chuck Versus the Reunion, Part One

**Author's Note: **This is my first fanfic in a while as well as my first in this fandom, but it's hardly my first. Feel free to comment, critique, and/or condemn whenever appropriate.

**Disclaimer:** Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm just borrowing Chuck from its rightful owners, so please don't sue.

* * *

**Chuck Versus the Reunion**

"Chuck, I think it's time."

Chuck rubbed the sandy feeling from his eyes and sighed. "Time for what, Morgan?"

He heard Morgan take a deep breath and count to three. "I think it's time to put your foot down, Chuck. It's time to tell Sarah to come home and stay this time so she can fall in love with you again."

_I don't need this. Not today. _He'd already gone through a long phone lecture from Ellie, a pep talk from Awesome, and a frighteningly earnest abduction offer from his mother. Even if his mother hadn't been serious, that had been the final straw. But this was Morgan, he told himself. And Morgan was...well, Morgan.

Chuck craned his neck to peek through two of the four monitors which lined his desk, meeting his best friend's intent gaze. "Can we do this later? No offense, buddy, but I'm kinda in the middle of a cyber war with China at the moment."

"And that's more important than winning back your wife?"

Chuck inhaled and forced his face to remain impassive. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Dude, what happened to you?" Morgan stood up and rounded the desk, shoving a stack of folders out of the way so he could sit down. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad you haven't totally spiraled to the old dark place, but this is almost as bad. It's like it's another place. The new dark place."

"Where is that, exactly? Because it kinda looks like my office to me."

"Yeah, which you almost never leave anymore."

Chuck shook his head and swiveled his chair to look at Morgan. "I'm working! That's what grown-ups do, Morgan. We have to go to work and...work." He cleared his throat, immediately feeling guilty that he'd raised his voice. After all, he knew Morgan had his best interests at heart.

Morgan didn't look bothered, and he didn't budge. Against his better judgment Chuck finally slumped back. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I can't force Sarah to do something she's not ready to do yet. I promised her that I would be patient and wait for her to figure things out."

Morgan's face fell. "I know, man, but it's been over two years since she lost her memory, and in that time you've only seen her...what? Three, maybe four times? And it's only because she rejoined the CIA, and Beckman orders her to get your help on a mission."

Chuck unwillingly glanced at his desk calendar. Good intentions or no, he couldn't have this discussion again. Not today. Not even with Morgan. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I have to finish this before I fly out to DC tomorrow. We'll talk when we get back, okay, buddy? Just...not today."

Chuck got up to get more coffee. He understood Morgan's disappointment with his attitude. "I'm gonna get a drink. You want one? I even stocked grape soda just for you," he offered, hoping it would take some of the sting away. When he turned back, he saw Morgan staring at the same calendar on his desk.

When Morgan looked back up, the man looked horrified. "Dude...I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot what today was."

Chuck groaned and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to make Morgan feel bad. It wasn't like he advertised it either. After last year's debacle when Morgan tried to keep his spirits up, Chuck had intentionally kept it extra quiet this year. "It's okay, buddy..."

"No, it's not. God, I'm such a jerk," Morgan moaned. The smaller man jumped up awkwardly, straightened out his suit, and jogged to Chuck's side. "Forget I said anything. New plan. You know what you need?" Morgan asked, poking Chuck's arm.

"No, seriously, Morgan. It's okay..."

"You need a game night. Just you and me. Huh? Huh? Am I right, or am I right?"

Chuck paused his initial denial. That...actually didn't sound too bad, and God knew he didn't want to be home alone all evening. It had been ages since they'd had game night anyway. Except... "I still need to go over the information for tomorrow. And what about Alex? Didn't you guys have a thing planned?"

Morgan clucked his tongue. "Alex will totally understand. Don't worry about that. And you can read up on the new assignment tomorrow on the plane." Morgan put on his best puppy dog begging face. "So, what do ya say? Your place, seven o'clock. We can snipe some bishes in Halo, mix it up with a Fable chicken kicking contest..."

Chuck tilted his head. "I do love chicken kicking."

"Who doesn't? I'll bring the meatball marinara and sizzling shrimp if you bring the sodas and Chardonnay. It'll be just like old times."

All responsibilities aside, Chuck realized he did need something other than work to do for just a little while. "You're right, Morgan." Chuck nodded and patted Morgan's back. "Let's do it. I'll finish this up here and meet you at seven. Thanks, buddy."

"Hey, what are best friends for, right? You do your thing, and I'll call Alex and let her know about tonight."

* * *

As she came to, Sarah realized several things at once. First, the splitting headache meant she'd been tranqued. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was black. The stale air and fibery taste in her mouth confirmed that she still had some kind of cloth bag over her head. Both her hands and feet were tightly bound, and she'd been dumped onto a mattress of some kind. She could hear a soft voice in the background and wondered if Casey was in a similar predicament, or if he'd been killed.

She ignored that unpleasant possibility for the moment. Blinking away the grogginess, Sarah remained still as she tried to figure out how she got captured after what she'd thought was a successful mission. She'd gotten into the terrorists' encampment undetected. She'd grabbed the flash drive from a portable safe while Casey set charges around the enemy's makeshift barracks. They'd fled to the perimeter and watched the entire place go up like the fourth of July. They had been together when they got to the Jeep, but after that...

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what happened next. She never saw anyone near their getaway vehicle. She remembered Casey saying...something. What did he say? Something about a new mission, or about needing to be somewhere. It was right there, just at the edge of her consciousness...

"_We need to move. You have somewhere to be tomorrow."_

"_Where?"_

"_Burbank."_

_Sarah frowned. "Beckman didn't say anything about that for this mission."_

"_It's not about the mission."_

"_Then I'm not going." She tensed. Something was wrong._

_Casey grunted. "I figured you'd say that."_

Then she remembered the sting in her arm before it went dark. "Son of a..." Casey had knocked her out and taken her as a hostage. It didn't make sense. Although she didn't remember their first five years together as partners, Sarah had come to rely on Casey since returning to the CIA and being paired with him again. She even trusted him to some degree. Too much, obviously.

She wasn't about to dwell on it. After all she was, first and foremost, a spy. Sarah immediately shook the bag off her head and began working her way out of her restraints. She surveyed the hotel room around her at the same time. To her dismay, Casey proved proficient as usual with his knots, and after several minutes she acquiesced, settling for moving to a sitting position, intending to find something sharp to cut her bonds. Then the door opened, and she froze as Casey walked in, one hand on his gun and the other holding a phone to his ear.

"Tell the moron I'm way ahead of him," Casey growled into the phone. A minute passed. "Yeah, we're already here, so you just make sure that idiot knows what to do when we get there. I'll handle Walker."

Casey hung up the phone and drug a chair over in front of her, but just out of reach. Sarah considered going for it, but Casey was a tough target. And the comment about handling her piqued her curiosity just enough to buy him a few minutes to explain before she killed him.

"You're awake," Casey grumbled.

"You kidnapped me, and you're conspiring with whoever was on that call. As soon as I'm free, all of you are going down for treason. Or you'll be dead. I haven't decided yet."

Casey snorted. "First part's true. I told you we had somewhere to be today. I just made sure you got here."

Sarah looked around the room again. She noticed the open drapes and finally recognized the skyline outside. "And I told you that I wasn't going to Los Angeles, so why are we here?" Sarah narrowed her eyes, promising Casey imminent death if she didn't like his answer.

"Because it's your anniversary."

Suddenly Sarah wished Casey had used a bullet instead of dropping that bomb on her. Apparently her expression gave it away, because Casey finally moved within her reach. She didn't move though, still too shocked to react. Casey cut the tie around her feet first and finally released her hands. As soon as he finished, he took his seat again and waited. Sarah rubbed her wrists; Casey really was amazing. She didn't even have a mark on her that she could see other than ones she'd caused herself. He'd obviously taken great care to ensure he didn't actually hurt her in transit.

Sarah tried to remember that she had a right to be angry. "Why didn't you just tell me that."

Casey offered a minute shrug. "Would you have come?"

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. No, she knew. She definitely would not have come. Not when she knew what might happen if she put herself in that position. Chuck did that to her every time, made her...feel things...things that just didn't mix with the spy she remembered herself to be.

Casey nodded, his visage growing stern. "It's time, Walker. You're his wife. You either need to go back and work it out, or you need to cut him loose."

Sarah squirmed before she realized it and jumped up instead and started pacing. "It's not that simple, Casey. I still don't -"

"You don't remember." Casey snorted. "You probably never will. But that idiot will wait forever if you let him. Bartowski deserves better than that, Walker. We owe him better. It's time."

Sarah spun on Casey. "We?"

"Yeah, we." Casey stood as well. "I did my part. Now get dressed and do yours. I'll be in the car."

Sarah was about to mention the issue of getting dressed when Casey thumbed toward the corner of the room. There was her suitcase, and with it overrode her last good excuse to stall. Sarah knew she could run of course, but...

"_We owe him better than that. It's time."_

Sarah swallowed hard and watched Casey leave the room before flopping back onto the bed. She hated it, the strange sensation of nervousness that accompanied any upcoming visit with her stranger-husband. She'd already been pushing it back, knowing she was due to see him in DC for a joint operation the next day. And it wasn't Chuck's fault of course, but he just always seemed to melt her down so fast. None of her training had prepared her for someone who could do that so well. Even seduction academy hadn't covered managing another person who could be so genuine all the time, in everything he did. She wished she had the memory to fall back on, of their time when Chuck Bartowski was still her asset. Surely she'd stayed professional in the beginning. Her video log had her admitting falling for him into their second year together. She'd still looked like herself in the Week Three entry, right? Well, mostly anyway. Then there was the entry about their first real kiss. The one she'd initiated.

Had she loved him already? Had it really happened that fast?

_It did. You don't remember it, but you felt it on the beach that day. You feel it every time you've seen him since then._

Sarah took a steadying breath. Casey was right. She still didn't feel ready, but the truth was she probably never would be ready. She'd become a different person over the five years she couldn't remember now. Perhaps instead of running away from it, she needed to face it head on and see what that meant. What it really meant, and if, just maybe, she could reconcile it once again with the spy she was. If she could, then she might just have a shot at a life she'd never believed possible for someone like her, the one Quinn had tried to steal from her. And if not...

Again, Casey was right. Chuck would probably wait no matter what, for as long as it took, and she didn't have to know him intimately to understand that he did indeed deserve better than remaining devoted and pining for an absentee wife. With that decided, Sarah went to her suitcase. She picked out a simple blouse and blue jeans, slipped them on over her body armor and touched up her makeup. She considered her accessories for a minute before settling on sandals, plain gold jewelry and a small knife hidden at her back. She tucked her phone into one pocket and her gun into her waistband.

With a final inspection, Sarah found Casey puffing on a cigar against the back door of his Vic. He nodded once and opened the door for her.

Once they neared Echo Park, Sarah's guts began to twist up all over again. It was the anniversary of the wedding she couldn't even remember. Sarah counted it back quickly. Third anniversary. Weren't there gift themes for the years? What was it for the third? And did it count if she hadn't even given him anything for the first or second ones? Should she cover those too?

"Casey, should I get him a gift? I mean, it's a wedding anniversary, so I should get him a gift," she blurted out suddenly. "We have to turn around. Right now."

They pulled into the apartment's parking lot, and Casey parked before turning back to her. "I told Bartowski something once. A little secret. Now I'm gonna tell you."

Sarah fought back the sour taste in the back of her throat. "Okay. What's that?"

"All he needs is the girl. Now get in there."

* * *

Chuck raised an eyebrow as Morgan scurried around his living room, obviously distressed. "You okay, buddy?"

Morgan jumped and turned his excessively wide eyes toward Chuck. "Yeah, of course." A twitter like laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? I mean, it's game night! We have subs and sizzling shrimp and soda and Chardonnay and candles... Wait, my groove just got messed up there..."

The other eyebrow joined the first. Morgan was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them. He was up to something, and usually the octave of his voice indicated just how big it might be. And Morgan was practically squeaking. "Morgan..."

"Yeah, Chuck. My buddy." Morgan ran up and play jabbed him in the stomach a few times. "My buddy, my man, my Han..."

_Oh no. No, no, no. _"Morgan," Chuck intoned again slowly through clenched teeth, "what did you do?"

"Who, me?" Morgan jumped back. "Nothing, dude! I'm just excited! It's game night! We love game night, right?"

Chuck stepped forward, and for each step Morgan ran back two more until the smaller man bumped against the door and yelped. Chuck didn't relent. "Morgan, I swear to God, if you flew Jeffster back in again this year, or you set up another pudding Slip-and-Slide in the courtyard, or -"

"No, no, nothing like that," Morgan replied quickly. Then he frowned. "But for the record, the Slip-and-Slide would've worked if it wasn't for Lester's weird goat milk thing."

"Morgan!"

Finally Morgan stiffened his back and stared Chuck right in the eye, his face oddly serious and sending Chuck back a step. "Look, it wasn't my idea, but it had to be done. You'll thank us later."

In the moment it took Chuck to process the transformation, Morgan bolted out the door. Chuck blinked before following. Morgan had stopped at the fountain, but Chuck froze when he saw Morgan wasn't alone. Behind him, shifting her weight from one foot to another... The name came out of him as if someone had vacuumed it straight out of his lungs.

"Sarah..."

"Hi, Chuck." Morgan scurried out of the way, leaving the path between them clear. Sarah closed the distance after a minute's hesitation. Then she unwound her hands. "Um...can I come in?"

"Oh...oh yeah, yeah, of course, of course, yeah...come...come in," Chuck managed. He was stammering; he knew it, but he couldn't seem to recall the majority of his vocabulary at that moment. He was still too overwhelmed by Sarah's unexpected presence, the close proximity, the way she looked almost as uncomfortable as he was tongue tied as she moved out of the doorway and into the apartment.

The last observation cleared his head, if only a little bit. Chuck shut the door and used it as a prop while he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. If he didn't, he'd probably grab her and squeeze her half to death, and she just didn't look up for that at the moment. And then there was the whole gun in her waistband...

"So," he began, watching her as she seemed to inspect the room, "um...I know we're supposed to meet in DC tomorrow. But you're...here. Today." _On our anniversary. Did you remember? Please say you remembered..._

Sarah had stopped and stared at their wedding photo on the bookshelf. Chuck felt that small balloon of hope he'd had for a second deflate just as fast. He didn't have to hear her say it. He didn't have to be a spy to confirm that no, she hadn't remembered their anniversary. The way she focused on that photo, as if she could learn something from it if she looked hard enough, gave it away.

But it wasn't her fault, so Chuck regrouped quickly, careful not to sound disappointed. "Right. So...did you need to see me before the meeting tomorrow? Since...you know... you're here...today." Why couldn't he stop mentioning that? He needed to be cool about it. Sarah didn't remember, but that was okay. She probably didn't even know what day it was. That was okay too. No matter what, he would make himself be okay with it. Anything not to scare her away.

Sarah finally looked away from the photo and back to him, and Chuck's breath caught when he noticed how shiny her eyes were.

"Casey told me what today is," she said softly. She opened her arms before shoving her own hands into her pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't get you anything. I should have..."

"No, no, it's okay," Chuck breathed, rushing forward. "Truth is, I didn't expect this, so I didn't get you anything either." Then he jumped. "Oh, wait, I do have something for you."

Sarah opened her mouth to stop him, but he was already rushing off. He stopped at the ottoman in front of the couch, punched in a code, and lifted the cushion. Sarah made her way over and felt her mouth drop open at the array of weapons and gadgets inside. "Wow, Chuck..."

Chuck stopped digging long enough to give her a guilty grin. "Yeah, you know, twenty-five foot rule. Old habits, I guess." Then he lifted a few cases until he produced two boxes. Once he replaced everything, dropping the two still wrapped boxes onto the sofa. "Please, go ahead, open them."

Sarah sat down and picked up the larger of the two packages, unwrapping it carefully. The plain brown box contained an exquisite set of throwing knives, slimmer, lighter, and even more balanced than her CIA issued set. The holster even adjusted so that she could wear it on her ankle or her thigh. "These are amazing, Chuck," she whispered honestly. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, yours are kinda outdated, and I figured with the government budget cuts the past couple years..."

Sarah laughed despite her anxiousness. It was the perfect spy gift from the most un-spyish guy she could imagine.

"Um, the next one's better," Chuck prompted as he pointed to the smaller package. "Or I think it's pretty cool, but maybe that's just the nerd in me."

Sarah set the knives aside and unwrapped the second box quickly. The item inside looked like some kind of large screen smart phone. Considering the source however, Sarah figured there was more to it. "What is it?"

"Um, well..." Chuck sat down beside her and took the unit, hitting the small button on the top to turn it on. "It's an all-in-one security cracker. Basically," he began, revealing the panel that slid down in the back," it can connect to anything without extra tools, and it can hack into any system. Or any system I can hack anyway, which is...pretty much all of them." He quickly explained the connectors, the programmable skeleton key card, the trojan program to circumvent security feeds – closed and open circuits – along with a multitude of other features.

"How did you get this?" Sarah breathed, awed by the level of tech in such a small package. "I mean, did you get this from the CIA? DARPA?"

"No, although DARPA's been hounding me for schematics since they caught wind of it during the test phase." Chuck settled back. "It's a one-of-a-kind. After your close call in Paraguay, I realized you needed something that worked kind of like the Intersect when cracking systems. And since..." _Since you didn't want me with you..._

Sarah frowned. "Paraguay was right after I rejoined the CIA, Chuck. How did you know about that mission?"

Chuck wasn't about to admit that he used his backdoor access to get reports on all of her missions, so he elected to offer the other half of the truth. "Well, I still have top level clearance, and Beckman is surprisingly good about letting me know that you're safe, or if you have a close call. Anyway," he went on, clearing his throat, "I built this for you." He produced a small typed manual from the bottom of the box and gave it to her. "It's all in there, and of course you have the benefit of Carmichael Industries' twenty-four hour tech support line. Assuming you still have my number," he added with a chuckle. "Oh, and it works as an encrypted SAT phone too that you can piggyback onto any government satellite without being detected. And you of course can always use mine in a pinch."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You own a satellite?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," Chuck replied. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"How?"

"Hm...that's kind of a long, funny story, actually." Chuck stiffened. "And it involves a lot of...us...stuff. From when we were married, and some stuff from after you left. You probably don't wanna hear it -"

"I do want to hear it," Sarah interrupted. And she realized suddenly that she did. She might have been alarmed at how much she wanted to hear it, except she was holding a multi-million dollar piece of specialized tech in her hand, crafted just for her by this man. By her husband. "Tell me."

"Okay, but I want you to promise me something in return," Chuck said.

Sarah twitched. "What?"

"I'll tell you about this if you promise to tell me about what you've been doing the past two years. If you're finding what you've been looking for." After several moments of heavy silence, Chuck let out a quick chuckle. "And we eat while we talk, because I'm starving. And since Morgan brought the shrimp, and we have the wine already... No need for it to go to waste, right?"

Sarah clamped her mouth shut for a second, reminding herself not to show too much emotion. Spies kept those things close, because when they didn't, it caused nothing but problems. Except it was her wedding anniversary, and even though she couldn't remember, she felt like a part of her still did. And somehow, at some point in their past, this feeling hadn't been a problem at all. It had given her something that almost looked like it had been a real life, even as a spy.

"Okay," she finally answered softly. "You're right, let's talk. And eat," she added quickly as he handed her a carton of shrimp and a pair of chopsticks. "Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

Sarah smiled, her first real one in months. "Happy anniversary."

She knew her smile was real, but it was nothing compared to his. Yeah, she could definitely see herself falling in love with that smile...

"Happy anniversary, Sarah."

* * *

**Author's Note #2: **Originally I planned this as a multi-chapter story, but upon further reflection I've decided to leave it as a one-shot. What would have been future chapters will now, most likely, just be little ficlets like this one that build on each other. But we'll see. My feet have now been wetted; I hope you enjoyed it. Again, all feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for reading. :)


	2. Chuck Versus the New Team

**Author's Note: **As always, comment, critique and/or condemn whenever appropriate. Longer note to follow at the end. Feel free to gripe about the change from 'Complete' to 'In-Progress'. I deserve it.

**Disclaimer: **Roses are red, violets are blue, just hijacking the Chuck characters again, so please don't sue.

**Chuck Versus the New Team**

In a dim conference room beneath Washington D.C., Agent Cole Barker blinked away the last of the sedative he'd been given before his flight. It had to be something really big to require so much secrecy. He wouldn't even know where he was, had the tranquilizer not worn off early. He'd heard two of the men that wheeled him in using CIA-speak. The rest was simple deduction. Still, he remained unconcerned. He was comfortable enough and free to move apparently. And it wasn't his first time, after all. Being one of the most decorated agents with MI-6 tended to land him with missions that started much like this one.

He put on his most winning smile as he heard heels click on the floor behind him. Then the tiny woman rounded into his vision. "Good evening, Agent Barker. I apologize for all the secrecy."

Cole inclined his head. "Not a problem. It's been a while, General Beckman. I would ask how things are going at your DNI, but..." He indicated his current surroundings. "Well, I can make a pretty good guess, considering."

General Beckman took a seat across from him and folded her hands. "I'd like to offer you an opportunity to become part of an international operation led by US intelligence agencies. The details are classified above Top Secret, and you will only be briefed once you agree to the assignment. I should caution you," Beckman continued, "that MI-6 will have no knowledge of the specifics of this operation or its members."

Wow, this really was a good one. "Well, I admit you've piqued my curiosity. But really, General, I believe I've proven myself up to keeping your secrets in the past."

Beckman leaned back and studied him for a minute. "Yes, which is precisely why you're here."

Cole tilted his head. He'd worked with agents from the States many times during his career, but only once had he been put into a position of being tested. Really tested, through torture. And suddenly everything made much more sense. "The Intersect..."

The woman remained still, giving him nothing but a perfect poker face. Cole considered a few scenarios that would facilitate the US government queuing him for an Intersect-related operation. He couldn't imagine a situation where this might be a good thing. Last time he checked, the human Intersect was still one of America's most valuable secrets. Every clandestine organization including MI-6 had heard the leak, that Bryce Larkin was the Intersect and was killed in action. Cole had discovered differently of course, but after meeting the real Intersect...well, he'd conveniently omitted that fact from his reports. Most governments, even those friendly with the US, considered any human with that much information a security risk. Chuck probably never knew that the CIA guarded his identity so closely not only to keep him away from the obvious enemies, but to keep him safe from allied nations as well. After all, there was only one real rule when it came to international diplomacy and cooperation, be it spies or nations. Your friends are only your friends until they're not anymore.

Either something had changed, or something had happened to the original Intersect. Cole frowned as he considered that. For all the man's awkward quirks, Cole had actually liked Chuck Bartowski a great deal. Despite Chuck's rushed introduction into some of the ugliness the world had to offer, the man had maintained a striking humanity often lost in Barker's line of work. And honestly, Cole couldn't imagine another person more worthy to harbor something so powerful and potentially dangerous. Chuck's only true shortfall had been his lack of defensive skill, but that could have been taught, if they'd allowed it.

No details until he accepted, hm? Nope, that wasn't going to work for him this time. Considering the extraordinary lengths used to get him here, Cole decided to place his bet.

"I'm afraid I can't blindly agree to a mission outside of my immediate chain-of-command," Cole stated and stood, offering his hand to Beckman. "I'm sure you understand."

Beckman's lips disappeared and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Sit down, Agent Barker."

_Well, well, who knew she would fold so quickly..._

Cole watched her shuffle in her seat as he settled back in himself. Twitchy, indeed. "How is the Intersect involved in this operation? If you can tell me that..." Cole let the sentence hang. If he didn't know better, he might have thought he detected an air of – relief? - coming from the General.

"I would like you to run point alongside the Intersect," Beckman replied finally. "This mission's success requires the best spies and specialists in the world. Agent Bartowski will lead his original team. I would like you to lead the other."

That wasn't the change Cole had expected. He probably failed at hiding his surprise. "_Agent_ Bartowski?"

Beckman nodded. "Yes, Chuck Bartowski is no longer just a CIA intelligence asset. He has become a real spy."

Okay, it had been a few years, so Cole could buy that Chuck had grown up if they'd finally taken time to properly train him. However... "But not only are you saying that he's a full-fledged agent, you're also suggesting that Chuck is somehow qualified to lead a government covert ops team. From what I remember of Chuck," Cole chuckled, "I find that rather... unlikely, in such a short period of time."

General Beckman pursed her lips. Cole suspected she was debating how much more she should divulge without him committing to this operation. But then she couldn't know, despite his doubts, that Cole had heard enough to join this new team. If nothing else, it would certainly prove interesting. He waited patiently. A long while passed before the small woman pulled a file from her briefcase and slid it across the table to him. Then she stood.

"I expect to see you tomorrow at oh-seven hundred for your initial debriefing," she stated without looking at him. "When you're ready, the agents outside will escort you to your hotel."

Cole allowed her to leave without objection, but he waited until the door slid shut before he even read the name on the file tab: Bartowski, Charles I. Cole flipped open the front page and grinned as he admired the photo. Chuck still had a certain look about him, a blend of innocence and intelligence. This face, slightly older and framed by a welcomed haircut, betrayed more confidence than the man Cole remembered. It suited him well. Chuck always struck him as someone who could do bigger things than he'd given himself credit for, back when the younger man had wished for the Intersect to be out of his head and a so-called normal life. Still that slight change could not have prepared Cole for what he noticed next, listed beside the picture.

_Special Agent Charles Irving Bartowski. _

_Known Alias(es): Charles Carmichael._

Cole had to reread that a few times to let it sink in.

Charles Carmichael, a name connected to some of the most astonishing take downs of their generation. Hell, the man was said to be the mastermind of the operation that dismantled Volkoff Industries, and led to the successful capture of Alexi Volkoff himself! To imagine that Charles Carmichael was really Chuck Bartowski... But if Cole's intel was current and accurate, Charles Carmichael had gone into business for himself and had no more connection to the CIA, which meant neither should Chuck.

Cole considered the timetable of Agent Carmichael's supposed tenure with the CIA. All agencies friendly with the US had seen a huge increase in the number of prisoners moved to various black sites around the world at the same time Carmichael became a familiar whisper among the community. With that had come a startling increase in actionable intelligence for all America's allies. That made sense, if Chuck's aversion to guns still held true; the Chuck Bartowski he'd met would always prefer capture over killing anyone.

Cole leaned back and continued reading. Page after page that filled in many blanks and confirmed Beckman's assertion about Chuck the Spy. The mission logs alone described Chuck's growth beyond even Cole's wildest expectations. Then, finally, he came to another facts page of current information. Agent Bartowski – Cole could see it now. Current cover: President and CEO of Carmichael Industries, which kept public record as a tech security company, when in reality it was the CIA's newest one man division dedicated to multinational cyber espionage and terrorism. His residence had not changed, but apparently Chuck now owned the apartment building in which he lived. He also owned two other homes and a plot of land. The US government paid Chuck handsomely to lease the majority of the apartment complex, probably as a response outpost and as safehouses. Chuck also maintained his own engineering lab in a subterranean facility that rivaled DARPA and NASA in its innovations. The note about his ridiculously high IQ came as no surprise. Chuck's status as the Intersect 3.0...maybe a little. His marital status however...

Cole couldn't help but smile and shake his head, even if it still stung a little. Chuck did it. He actually got the girl. Really got the girl. Chuck Bartowski had married Sarah Walker.

Cole closed the folder. No question, Cole Barker was definitely on board.

_Well played, General Beckman. Well played, indeed._

This was going to be fun.

* * *

"I don't trust him."

General Beckman led the door slide shut behind her before turning toward the voice. "Cole Barker is the perfect person to lead our second team, Frost."

Mary Bartowski remained stoney. "How do we know that? I'm sorry, General, but this is my son we're talking about. I won't risk exposing Chuck -"

"Sit down," Beckman ordered, and after a moment Mary finally complied. Beckman took the seat opposite and pulled up a file on her tablet before offering it to the other woman. "Agent Barker learned of the Intersect during an undercover MI-6 operation. He was captured soon after and tortured for over twenty-four hours for information. Barker gave his Fulcrum captors nothing. He even provided intelligence to us after he escaped. Not to mention," Beckman continued seriously," that Agent Barker had another mission at that time. He was hunting for the human Intersect and had orders to kill him."

Mary blanched. "Then why is he here?"

"At that time, we continued to leak intel that Bryce Larkin was the human Intersect. Larkin was Cole Barker's target. However, when he learned that it was Chuck, he obviously..." Beckman's lip curled slightly, "...made a judgment call. He protected Chuck, and he kept the Intersect's identity a secret, even from his own superiors."

"And now that Bryce Larkin is dead..." Mary skimmed Barker's file quickly.

"MI-6 has no knowledge that another human Intersect exists."

Mary relaxed, but only a little. She watched one of the two monitors over the General's head, the surveillance feed from the conference room. Agent Barker finally closed Chuck's file and placed it back on the table with a shake of his head. If Mary didn't know better, she'd think the man looked amused. Well, if Cole Barker had defied his orders from MI-6, even protected her son despite being tortured, she supposed she would give him a chance. Worst case, she found out he couldn't be trusted and she put a bullet through his head.

Then her eyes moved to the second monitor, and her scowl returned even deeper than before. "Fine, I can accept an agent who's proven himself. But a civilian?"

"An asset," Beckman corrected. "One that you and Agent Barker will need to develop during this operation." Mary stared holes into Beckman's head, not satisfied without some explanation. "This mission will require Chuck's technical and field expertise, so we need another analyst as a backup."

"The CIA is full of hackers," Mary snipped while she pulled up the information file on the second subject.

Beckman snorted. "But none as gifted as a Bartowski, and trust me, we want the next best thing." Beckman tapped on her keyboard and zoomed in on the figure pictured on the second monitor as well as the computer she worked on in that room. "We began watching her after she became inadvertently involved with one of the Intersect's missions a few years ago. After that, we hired her through one of the NSA's subsidiary corporations and have been monitoring her skill and development since then. To date, she's the only person we've found who could crack an Orion hack."

Even Mary had to admit that took talent. Her husband's programming skill was still legendary at the CIA. As far as she knew, only Chuck could do better. Mary watched the monitor. The woman on the screen typed furiously, pausing only to punch her fist in the air after a few minutes work. Then she went back to coding.

"Why not just install her at Carmichael Industries if she's that valuable? Allow Chuck to mentor her as an analyst? It sounds like she would be the perfect asset for him, and he wouldn't have to reveal himself as the Intersect to a civilian." All it took was the redhead's deep breath and slight shift in her seat, and Mary knew Beckman was holding out. "General? What aren't you telling me?"

"Bartowski and this woman have a...history."

Mary arched an eyebrow. History was bad. History meant complications. "What kind of history?"

Beckman cleared her throat. "Hannah Lee is Chuck's ex-girlfriend."

Mary jumped out of her chair so fast that it skidded across the floor behind her. "First you plan to force him into a long term operation with his estranged wife. Then this MI-6 agent, and now an ex-lover? No. I won't allow you to expose my son to this. Especially not now."

"_Sit down!_ That's an order!"

Mary considered telling the General where to shove her order, but she reminded herself where she was and who she was talking to. But she would not just sit down, so she planted her feet and crossed her arms instead. "I want to talk to her."

"She will be briefed with the rest of your team, Frost. For God's sake, you're a spy," Beckman spat. "Start acting like it."

Mary smirked down at the woman and tossed the tablet computer back on the desk. "I may be a spy, but I will never put that ahead of being a mother. Not again. So," Mary continued, leaning forward and planting both hands on Beckman's desk fearlessly, "either you let me talk to this Hannah woman and determine if she can be trusted with my son's secret, given their _history_, or send her away. I won't compromise Chuck's safety for your mission."

Instead of repeating herself, Beckman stood and glared at her agent. "Believe me when I tell you that Chuck's safety is my primary concern. I know you, more than probably anyone outside of the DNI leadership, understand how delicate our situation is at this time. How important it is that this operation be a complete success. There can be no mistakes. I don't like it either," Beckman finally admitted, "but this is our best option. We need Hannah Lee."

Mary straightened. She'd heard the whispers, that the DNI brass had once again begun to question the effectiveness of the current human Intersect. Murmurs that he wasn't performing in the capacity originally intended and must be flawed, or worse, a failure. Plus she'd spoken to her daughter recently. Ellie had noticed that her neurology research group in Chicago had begun receiving patients with degraded brain function of varying degrees. At the least, these otherwise healthy people suffered memory loss or motor function deficiencies. At worst they appeared to have been lobotomized without any signs of physical brain trauma.

And Ellie had noticed a pattern: all of them had no family, so the medical bills were forwarded to a PO Box in Washington, D.C.

Still, the inclusion of someone from Chuck's past, particularly that type of past, unsettled Mary, no matter how grave the situation. "Please, General, let me talk to her tonight," she asked more than demanded this time. When Beckman grimaced, Mary added, "We need to know that whatever happened between Chuck and this woman can't be used to turn her. If we determine that, I'll personally take responsibility for her as _my_ asset, and Chuck can mentor her at the same time, under my supervision."

Beckman took a deep breath and remained motionless for a while before finally saying, "All right. You have fifteen minutes."

Mary pursed her lips and turned on her spiked heel. Frost hadn't spent twenty years as Alexi Volkoff's right hand spy for nothing. "I only need ten."

* * *

Hannah remained transfixed on the monitor even though her eyelids felt like lead. This newest hack was the toughest yet, but she finally began to make sense of it. It had been a month since her company transferred her to DC, putting her up in a hotel and revealing that she had been chosen to participate in a highly sensitive project for the CIA. Compared to her fist job out of college as a glorified code monkey for an eccentric hedge fund jerk, this felt like a dream come true. Fulfilling, rewarding, and best of all, she could follow in her ex-Marine father's footsteps and serve her country. Of course she couldn't tell him about her work, but Hannah didn't have to. She'd explained to him that the details were classified, and he understood. For the first time in her career, in her entire life, Hannah felt as though she had the chance to do something extraordinary.

And this was extraordinary, she knew. She'd come into this same small office six days a week and worked through some of the most intricate and amazing hacks and viruses she'd ever seen. As soon as she defeated one, she would receive another. And another. She could have continued indefinitely and never gotten bored. Except a week ago, a general from the NSA visited her office and offered her a computer file that contained information on a database system that might have come out of a science fiction movie. Supposedly this system, this Intersect computer, held and analyzed every piece of US intelligence as encoded image files. Those files apparently could be recalled and utilized in real time by an agent, although Hannah's information didn't elaborate on the specific mechanics. She imagined an agent would have to be linked to closed network with some sort of specialized mobile device. It was obviously a top-level government secret, how the system could search, sort, and pull viable information so quickly from a database that large. Especially considering the kind of background checks she had to endure to get clearance to see that file in the first place.

Hannah brought her thoughts back to the task at hand. When she noticed the time she gasped. No wonder she felt like her brain had grown cobwebs. She'd been at this particular virus for almost eight straight hours. She stretched in her chair and stopped the program. Surely the security guys would come soon to escort her back to her hotel, so she logged out and waited.

She didn't have to wait long, but when she turned Hannah saw her usual pair of agents had apparently already gone home. Instead an older woman with a folder under her arm walked in and motioned for Hannah to stay in her chair.

"My name is Frost," she said curtly.

Hannah gulped. Everything about the taller woman was intimidating, from the scowl on her face to the hostile air that surrounded her like a cocoon.

Still, Hannah smiled and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. "Hi, I'm-"

"I know who you are," the woman cut in as she glared down her nose. "I have a few questions for you."

"Oh. Um, okay. Sure, what do you want to know? I'm an open book," she managed with an uneasy laugh.

The older woman tilted her head slightly. "Explain to me why a woman with advanced degrees in Computer Science and Combinatorics from CalTech would take a job at a BuyMore in Burbank."

The oxygen in the room seemed to thin around Hannah, and she could feel her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. The last thing she ever expected was to be asked about her short time in California. Even the most intrusive background check imaginable, the one she'd endured recently, made no inquiry about that. And what was she supposed to say? In truth, she didn't even include that job on her resume. After all, she'd only worked there a few weeks.

Several moments passed before Hannah realized that her mouth was hanging open. The woman that called herself Frost continued to glower down at her. She had to say something, but her mind remained nearly blank. So she blurted out the only thing there.

"The truth is, it was for a guy."

Frost's eyebrow quirked. "For a guy."

Hannah nodded even though her cheeks burned. She felt like she shrunk in her chair as her shoulders slumped. Even now, especially now, Hannah couldn't explain why she'd changed her plans after getting laid off and leaving Paris. She'd planned to cash out and take some time to spend with her family and maybe start her own business. Instead she'd gotten on the flight to Paris, settled into her seat, and begun checking out the other first-class passengers. She'd mentally started the game she always played alone – guess the Guest. All the while she'd decided she would put up the partition between her seat and the one next to her if the person that sat down said one word to her, because after being laid off, she just hadn't felt very conversational.

Except the guy that just didn't quite seem to know how to react to a stewardess who would take his coat sat down beside her. And Hannah caught herself asking about his pen, just because she wanted a reason to talk to him, to hear his story without having to guess. Even then, before he'd introduced himself, she'd known Chuck was different. To this day, she couldn't reconcile that guy, or the one that saved her life, from the guy who broke up with her the night he was supposed to meet her parents.

Frost obviously expected her to elaborate. Too late to take it back now. "I know it sounds impulsive and stupid, and I swear I'd never done anything like that before in my life. I can't even really explain it, and it turned out to be a huge mistake anyway."

The older brunette's frown deepened. "Tell me."

Hannah released the breath she'd held. There was no good excuse, so Hannah gave up and just told the truth. This woman wouldn't understand. She didn't know this man, so how could she? Hannah shrugged. "His name was Chuck, and I met him right after I got laid off from my first job. There was just something...different about him. I thought it was a good thing at the time. So when he offered to get me a job where he worked...I don't know. I mean, I knew it was a crappy job, but I decided for once to take a chance."

"And?"

Okay, she understood that this was the CIA, but Hannah's patience began to wear thin, scary agent lady or not. The embarrassment faded just enough to be ignored in light of the relentless and, in Hannah's mind, irrelevant line of questioning. It was one impulsive decision! Exasperated, Hannah rolled her eyes.

"What do you want me to say? I don't even know what happened. It was as if - I don't know - like Chuck was two different people sometimes. There were these times when he was quirky and really out of it, and he had serious ex-girlfriend issues in the beginning. But then he could be amazing and sweet and perfect." Hannah steadied her voice and told herself to calm down. "You know, I thought things were good between us. He even introduced me to his family. Then a week later he broke up with me, telling me some crap about me not being able to understand things about him and that I deserved someone better. And all I wanted Chuck to do was explain it to me so that I could tell him that whatever it was didn't matter, and that I just wanted to be with him. But he just left. He didn't even turn back around. He just...left."

Hannah sniffled and stared at her hands in her lap. They'd broken up years ago, and thinking about it now brought it all back. The confusion and hurt and...everything else. Well, she'd reached her limit for the night. Hannah gave herself a ten count and said, "So that's my story. I quit the BuyMore and took some time off. I was recruited for my current position shortly after that."

When she looked back up, she expected Frost to still regard her with the same aggression as before, if the woman didn't just look disgusted. Hannah gaped however when the woman's expression showed neither. Instead Frost looked almost sympathetic. The woman's eyes averted, and she seemed to be deep in thought. When she caught Hannah's eyes again, she appeared genuinely curious.

"I need to know something, Hannah, and this very important, so please tell me the truth," Frost said softly. "If you saw Chuck again, right now, what would you do?"

Hannah frowned. "What do you mean? I don't see why..."

"Hannah. Please."

Despite her desire not to open that wound any more than she already had, something about the way Frost looked at her drug it straight from her guts. It reminded Hannah of the time her own mother had cornered her and made her confess that she'd quit ballet to join the computer club behind her parents' backs. Guiltily and almost against her own will, Hannah answered.

"Honestly, I'd ask Chuck which one was real: the guy who broke my heart, or the guy who saved my life."

Hannah didn't understand why, but Frost checked her watch and snorted under her breath. Frost probably considered the exercise a waste of time considering the subject, even though her overly personal interrogation had lasted less than ten minutes.

Shockingly, Frost relaxed, at least somewhat. "Well, Hannah, I should make something clear. You've been asked to join a covert operations team. The missions involved will be highly classified and extremely dangerous, even for trained spies. Do you understand what that means?"

Hannah had to take a minute to switch tracks and readjust to the woman's more accepting attitude towards her. "I do," she replied with a lot more confidence than she felt.

"You can tell no one about this. Not your family. Not your friends. If you have people in your life who suspect anything unusual, you will have to lie to them. About what you're doing, where you've gone, and what you've seen." Frost moved forward and knelt beside her. "Hannah, you may be forced to make some difficult choices to protect the people you care about. In the end, you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to protect your team and complete the mission. Should you compromise the operation or its members in any way, you will be charged with treason."

Hannah nodded. "I understand."

"Most importantly," Frost continued gravely, "once you agree to this, there is no going back. No matter what you learn, or how you may feel about it. You have to put all of that aside if you're going to be part of this. Even after this operation ends, your life as a regular civilian is over. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"

Hannah inhaled deeply. She'd heard this speech before, but for some reason, Frost seemed to make it real. And it felt even more important that she make the right choice. Hannah thought about her father, a man who enlisted in the Marines the day he turned eighteen, during the height of the ground war in Vietnam. Even now, he didn't talk about it. When mentioned, he would simply say that he tried to serve his country honorably since he'd been allowed the honor to serve his country. And that his reward had been meeting her mother while he was there.

She may have still had a few secret reservations before. But now...now she knew. "I want to do this," Hannah answered.

Frost shocked Hannah even more when she patted her knee. "All right. Then from this point on, I will be your CIA handler. Should you have any questions, you will bring them directly to me. Understood?"

Hannah nodded again.

Frost stood up. "I suppose I should introduce myself properly." The woman offered her hand, and Hannah shook it, admiring the woman's firm grip. Had the older woman not held it so tightly, she would have lost the handshake as the woman went on, however, saying, "My codename is Frost, but my real name is Mary Bartowski. And I believe I can answer your question about my son."

Every muscle seemed to lock up all at once. Hannah just sat frozen, unblinking, her tired eyes burning even more. She managed to move again only when Mary let go of her trembling hand and dropped the file she'd kept under her arm all this time onto Hannah's lap. Even though her vision blurred, Hannah couldn't miss the bold red TOP SECRET printed across the folder. At the same time, her mind rewound to the outdoor patio of a restaurant in Malibu.

"_You know how much I like you, right?"_

She could hear his voice as if he was right in front of her again while an invisible hand twisted everything below her skin into knots.

"_Hannah, there are things in my life that you can't understand, and I can't explain them to you."_

She half choked, half sobbed as she confirmed more than read the name printed on tab: Bartowski, Charles I.

"_I've been dishonest, and it's not fair to you. So I have to end this, because you deserve to be with someone who you can know completely..."_

She hardly registered the hand on her shoulder, the comforting squeeze from a woman who actually did understand, so much better than Hannah could have believed.

"General Beckman told you that you would be working with the Intersect?" Mary asked.

Hannah couldn't hop tracks that fast, and she still didn't trust her voice, so she bobbed her head quickly instead as she wiped her eyes. It was pointless though; the tears just kept coming.

"The Intersect isn't a machine, Hannah. It's Chuck."

Even mentally going haywire, Hannah jerked and found her voice while she somehow managed to go back to what she had read about the Intersect system. It's vast information and its uses. For a CIA operative. In real time, which should be – no, that simply was, she realized - a technological impossibility. "Wha...what do you mean? His system..."

"Not a system. His brain. Him," Mary explained. "Chuck _is_ the Intersect."

Overwhelmed, Hannah could only stare at the folder as though it may explode in her lap. If that was true, it couldn't be true, how could it be true... She'd called Chuck a liar the night he dumped her. Not just a liar, but the best liar she'd ever met in her life, and she'd met her fair share. She'd been devastated that he'd fooled her so well and made her fall for him so fast. Worse still, he hadn't even tried to defend himself, to deny the accusation. He didn't even bother to attempt the lying that he was so damn good at. No, Chuck had simply walked away.

But Chuck wasn't a liar. He'd lied, yes, but that was different. Chuck was with the CIA. He was a spy. On top of that, he was a walking, breathing, living collection of the government's most secret...secrets.

And she _wouldn't_ have understood, she knew. And, obviously, he _couldn't_ have explained it.

She rubbed her face again and tried – and failed – to hold off Waterworks, Round Two. Chuck's mother had answered her question and left her with so many more.

"Read it, but leave the file when you're done. Deal with your feelings. Then get some rest," her new handler intoned above her head, breaking through the fog of emotions clouding Hannah's mind. "Because tomorrow, we have a mission."

Hannah finally opened the file, although she almost lost her nerve just seeing the front page photo. She counted to four, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Hannah had a million questions, yes, but she'd also just committed to working with Chuck Bartowski again. So one way or another, she had time to get her answers this time.

* * *

**Author's Note #2: ** First of all, humble thanks to all who read and/or reviewed the first ficlet/chapter. I didn't expect such a warm welcome into the fandom, so it was a wonderful surprise. I hope you enjoyed this one as well, even though I just brought in some of the more minor characters from the Chuckverse that I loved and felt deserve more attention. Plus it gave me a great excuse to break out the DVDs. Not that I really need an excuse, but it's mine nevertheless.

For those who take issue with a Sarah that doesn't remember the past, well I can go either way, but I tend to be more of a romantic realist. And I love a good conflict that brings a rewarding resolution. Call me angsty. Call me a sadomasochist. Either monicker works for me. I may go the magical kiss angle for a more mythology-based fic. Oh, child-Intersect, Stanford and the Omaha Project, what toys you offer to the muses' playground... Be careful what you wish for. (Now that the cliches are out of the way);

To those who suggested the first story be a longer, multi-chapter story, well, you were collectively right, and I need to stop being lazy. All apologies. -AtB


	3. Chuck Versus the Reunion, Part Two

**Author's Note: **Le sigh. Zachary Levi is a brilliant character actor. You know what kills me about Zachary Levi now that I'm writing in this fandom? As usual the longer note with the answer at the end. How I wish I could micro print it upside down at the bottom of the page, but I cannot.

**Disclaimer: **It's not stealing if you give it back; it's borrowing. Who says you can't learn anything from cartoons? (That's a Spongebob line. Credit where credit's due and all.)

**Chuck Versus the Reunion, Part Two**

After only three hours of decent sleep Sarah almost threw the alarm clock across the room when it rang, until she remembered that it wasn't her clock or her room. She slapped it silent instead and stretched, frowning at the extra weight covering her feet. She lifted her head enough to see the thick blanket folded and draped in the perfect spot to keep her feet warm. Chuck must have done that after she laid down, although she couldn't believe he could do that and not wake her up. She always slept lightly, just in case. But she did just come off a mission, and they'd stayed up way too late talking. Sarah sighed, just thankful that Chuck had offered to let her catch a nap in the spare bedroom.

The smell of coffee finally convinced her to move. Running her fingers through her hair, she slipped out of the room and padded down the hall, stopping just short of the living room. Chuck sat on the couch, feet up on the ottoman, a computer propped on his lap and a file open on the cushion beside him. Sarah leaned against the wall and just stared while she could. His attention was completely on whatever he saw between those two things apparently. Just another workaholic computer guy. A normal guy. Whatever story the CIA may have concocted for Chuck, had he gone on to be their intended Intersect agent on a normal assignment, being himself had to be the best cover imaginable. Watching him as he worked, no one on the outside would ever make Chuck for a genius multimillionaire hero superspy.

That's exactly what he was though. They'd eaten, put a fair dent in a bottle of wine, and talked for hours and hours. They talked about her missions while roaming the world for answers to questions she didn't quite know how to ask; his transfer of their private security firm into his current front company and assignment as a cyberterrorism agent, using a template that she'd created for the old Carmichael Industries after they got married. Then there were the random things: about his family and their current goings-on; how Sarah remembered what he told her about her mom being safe now, so she spent her first Mother's Day with her mom since she was fifteen. Sarah wasn't surprised by the conversation itself, only by how much she'd participated in it. It was like Malibu all over again but in reverse, where he got her started and gently coaxed everything she would never admit to anyone else out of her.

At some point she'd apologized for the missed anniversaries. Chuck had quickly and vehemently proclaimed that it was fine, he was fine, it wasn't her fault and he understood completely and he was just happy that she'd come for this one so it was all fine... But it wasn't fine, no matter what Chuck said. Sarah could see it in his face even now, the cost of his patience while she resisted coming back to rediscover the life she'd lost when Quinn stole her memories and their life together. Chuck's closest family had moved away. His best friend now spent a majority of his time with his own girlfriend. Chuck had trudged through the last couple years virtually alone, mainly because she hadn't held up her end of their relationship. Of course he would never try to force her to reconnect for his own sake. Chuck just wasn't that guy.

Well, Sarah reaffirmed then and there, they may have a mission now, but after that she was done running. Casey told her Chuck deserved better, and the older man was right. She would figure this out. She was done trying to find herself when she didn't know the version to search for. This time she would look for them, for who they had been together. Besides, she'd pretended to be married plenty of times as a spy. She could do the real thing. Sarah Walker could do this, she told herself.

Chuck looked up and noticed her. He closed the laptop, moved everything to the table and stood quickly. "Hey," he said nervously.

"Hey," she replied, noticing that he wore the same clothes he had when she went to bed. "Have you been up all night?"

"Oh...yeah, I couldn't sleep." He shrugged it off, and it seemed like minutes passed while they looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say. Chuck jerked his thumb toward the kitchen and broke in with, "I made coffee. I can get you some. Or you can grab a shower. Casey brought your suitcase over."

Sarah just nodded and swallowed. "Yes, thank you." Why did this feel so strange? And how could she be so nervous when there was no danger involved? She watched him rush into the kitchen while she made her way to the couch, glancing at the stuff on the table while reminding herself to just act...normal. "So what were you working on that kept you up?"

"Oh yeah, that," he replied as he came back to her with a large mug. "I was just tying up my last project and going over the file with some background that Beckman sent over. It, um, looks like the old team's gonna be back together again for this one."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. Beckman hadn't mentioned anything about it to her. "Can I see that?"

Chuck nodded and handed over the file. Sarah skimmed it quickly, noting how little real information it contained. One thing was clear however, and Sarah didn't like it. "Chuck, this sounds like they're expecting you to go into the field again." Chuck blinked at her as if he didn't see a problem. "Beckman can't expect you to sit behind a desk for a few years and then suddenly send you on a potentially dangerous mission."

Chuck cleared his throat and shuffled. "Um, well...actually, funny thing about that -"

"Chuck, tell me you haven't been going on missions alone. Because, last night, when you were telling me about your work over the past couple years, you never mentioned anything about going into the field." His wide eyes and clamped jaw was as good as a confession. "You have. You've gone on missions."

"It's not that big of a deal," Chuck offered quickly. "It's part of the job. You know that. I mean, I am an agent with the CIA, Sarah. And I'm the Intersect, which coincidentally was designed so that an agent could run solo."

So Beckman kept Chuck well-informed enough that he built her an Intersect code-cracker replacement device after one of her missions went sideways, yet the General never felt it appropriate to offer Sarah the same courtesy. Spy logic leaned in Chuck's favor however, so Sarah wasn't even sure why his admission bothered her so much. Knowing Chuck was field ready should have been comforting. Instead it pissed her off. Why?

"You know," Sarah said, talking out loud and hardly noticing that she was raising her voice at him, "it's not the missions that bother me. It's that you had all night, Chuck. We talked about your work, and you didn't tell me about this."

"I didn't think it was important," he replied, his own volume and octave matching hers.

Sarah the spy agreed in principle, but something else within her spoke louder. "Of course it's important!" She stalked forward and poked her finger in his chest. "You don't get to keep secrets or omit the things you don't want me to know. No secrets and no lies. That was our deal, Chuck!"

Sarah watched Chuck's mouth open as if he would argue, and then he jerked like he'd been hit with a taser. His entire stance transformed, and his face betrayed disbelief; it took another minute for Sarah to process it. They'd made no such promise on the beach before she left. Not on any of the few occasions she'd come back to get his expertise on a mission. Not last night. But she was right about this. It was like the symphony hall bomb diffusion all over again. She didn't remember the where or why or how it came about. Somehow, she just knew.

"We did make that promise, didn't we? Before..." _Before I lost us._ Sarah had to be absolutely sure. She swallowed back the knot in her throat when Chuck nodded. "When? Where were we?"

"It was your first mission without me after we started really dating," he explained, his voice desperate enough to twist a guilt knot in Sarah's gut. "You and Casey were going after Volkoff Industries, and I'd quit the CIA and started searching for my mom while you were gone. We didn't know they were connected until we both ended up at the headquarters in Moscow." Chuck searched her face. "Do you remember? Please try, even if it's something small. Just...anything."

Sarah calmed herself down, closed her eyes, and felt Chuck take one of her hands into both of his. She did try. She didn't see the images in her head like memories, but she recognized something, almost like a sensation. What was it?

"You saved me that day," she muttered, trying to work it out, trying to hang on even though it was slipping away so fast. Chuck squeezed her hand like he could feel it too and his presence would hold it there, but they were playing tug of war with a spiderweb, and it was gone. "I'm sorry, I'm trying but...I can't remember anything specific."

"No, no, it's okay," Chuck reassured her, and she heard him smiling before she even reopened her eyes. He nodded quickly. "I mean, it's something. An important something, so it's...it's good."

"I just wish..." Sarah tried to find the right words but like she kept falling short. "I want to remember, Chuck," she confessed after a moment. "I do."

"Listen, as long as you're willing to try, we'll get there. I promise."

One night in Burbank with Chuck yielded something she'd not accomplished in more than two years on her own. Holding his hand and looking into his eyes, she didn't need a single memory to know Chuck would do anything to keep one of his promises. Especially that one.

She only wished she still knew how to blend the roles of spy and spouse at the same time, especially since Chuck seemed to do it so naturally. That talent eluded her at the moment, but she would either remember it, or she would relearn it. Until then, they had a briefing with General Beckman to deal with and a mission to follow. Sarah hoped they could wrap this one up quickly. Then she could shed her inner chameleon and try a real life for the second time, without the threat of having it ripped away from her. After Chuck's rundown of the Carmichael Industries template, maybe she could even take on a role there for the agency while staying closer to home.

Sarah sucked in a breath. _Home._ There it was again, more sensation than memory, like wrapping up in blanket from childhood. Sarah looked around again and took it all in. Everything in this place - from the pictures on the walls and shelves, the light scent of her favorite rosemary and sandalwood potpourri in the air, to the vinyl record playing softly in the background – surrounded her with that feeling. This had never been a pit stop, just another stamp in her travel book or mission logs. This had been her home.

"Hey," Chuck broke in, giving her hand a squeeze, "you okay? Do you need to lay back down? We have another hour or so before we really need to get moving. Or I can tell Beckman to brief us from here. Whatever you want, Sarah."

Sarah shook herself out of it. "No, it's okay. I'm fine." She smiled uneasily. Feeling so much so fast was a little overwhelming, especially without much sleep. "I could definitely use that coffee though."

"Oh! Right, here you go." Chuck let go of her and retrieved her cup, handing it to her almost like a servant from some comedy film. "One perfectly brewed Kenya Makwa for the lady."

_And the superspy knows his coffee too._ "Wow, Chuck," Sarah managed, enjoying the first sip. "I'm impressed."

"Don't be." He chuckled, flashing that smile Sarah suspected had made her fall for him the first time around. "If it hadn't been for your lesson on the dangers of the spy business on bargain coffee after we moved in together, I'd probably still be mixing my Folgers with a bottle of Tums every day."

Sarah caught herself laughing with him. Not a cover laugh, not a fake reaction given to a stranger. This was comfortable and genuine and familiar, just like the man standing in front of her. Yeah, she had to admit it. Despite her knee jerk tendency to pull away and guard herself, once she got past that, she enjoyed the sense of déjà vu, of being drawn in rather than pushing back.

_But you still have a mission, so focus, Walker._ Sarah took another long swig and cleared her throat before speaking again. "So, has Beckman given you anything else on this new operation?"

Chuck glanced around the table and shrugged. "Nothing concrete. I can make a few guesses based on the file she sent and some chatter I've heard recently."

"Chatter?"

"Yeah," Chuck said, his face almost too serious. "My best guess is we have a new bad guy."

Sarah snickered again. "Very astute, Agent Bartowski."

Chuck grinned; it suited him so much better. "What can I say? I learned from the best," he replied.

* * *

Mary Bartowski had also stayed up the entire night, but she'd spent those hours studying background information and watching the surveillance feeds she'd set up on her new "team". She settled back and sighed; she hadn't worked with a partner in well over two decades. Even as Alexi Volkoff's right hand, she'd carried out her tasks alone or orchestrated the movements of other lesser operatives within the organization. Now the CIA had assigned her to work with two people she knew too little about, and they hadn't even given her operational authority.

Frost considered what she'd learned overnight. There was a hoard of intel on Barker. Countless mission success stories, commendations, recommendations both from his military stint early on and throughout his rather illustrious career as an agent. Hardly a skeleton to be found, aside from his penchant for womanizing. Had he worked for anyone besides MI-6, he would likely have been knighted already. He'd gotten the next best thing though, an accolade from the Queen herself, given anonymously of course, for nonspecific service to crown and country. Frost even used one her of husband's old cracks to check files she wouldn't normally be able to access. Everything she found supported Beckman's decision to include him in this new operation, including the mission report Cole Barker wrote himself regarding the Intersect.

Then there was Hannah... Frost wondered if the woman would ever learn just how far back her file went. Hannah Lee had gotten on the government's radar the first time back in college as a possible recruit. She'd even gotten top-level civilian clearance as a grad student to work on NSA research projects. Plus she came from a military family, with a father and three older brothers, all Marines. No explanation why she ended up in the private sector at all. She'd graduated high school at sixteen and finished her undergraduate studies by nineteen. Her aptitude tests were off the charts. Her psych profile showed all the elements that made the perfect analyst. Then again, sometimes the government kept an ace in their pocket as Frost knew all too well since her husband had been one, once upon another lifetime. Hannah likely would have found herself in a civilian contractor role eventually, when a four-star someone decided the young woman could be used to greatest effect. And unlike other recruits, Hannah Lee had no information logged in the Intersect.

So Hannah got laid off at just the right time to be on a flight to Paris, assigned to the seat next to Chuck? Frost had replayed Hannah's version of the story and reread everything she could find on Chuck's first solo spy mission. Hannah believed it to be a chance meeting that led her to Burbank on a whim, and Chuck would probably say the same. But Frost didn't put stock in coincidence. Not in their line of work, and not considering Hannah's grooming for an operation like this one since that supposedly coincidental first meeting. No, Mary could see the strings attached to this. Somewhere behind the scenes hid a puppeteer. She needed to know who it was, and what that meant for her son.

So be it: submission accepted.

Until then Frost knew her best option was to play along. She'd work with Agent Barker, even follow his direction as long as it made sense and didn't endanger Chuck unnecessarily. And she would continue to develop her new asset. She would learn what other hidden talents Hannah may have that could be used to benefit this operation. Maybe the young woman would find a place at Carmichael Industries yet, freeing Chuck to increase his field operation hours and keep some of the more trigger-happy brass off Beckman's back. Perhaps Frost could take on her first apprentice-partner in three decades. Time and the team dynamic would decide how she might proceed.

Frost checked her watch; it was almost time to gather the troupes. Barker had already woken up and was getting out of bed. She watched the monitor of his room. He stood and stretched. Then he turned to the vent where Frost had planted her camera. With a wave and a smirk, he offered a congenial "Good morning," dropped his underwear and sauntered into the bathroom.

Frost snorted. So Barker knew someone was watching his room and decided to give them a quick show. Narcissistic perhaps, but many of the best spies suffered from that particular character trait. At least Agent Barker was observant.

Mary switched to the other screen. Hannah Lee, like her, hadn't slept at all. She'd laid down in the wee hours of the morning but jumped back up shortly after. The young lady had paced and talked to herself quite a bit, mostly about what she'd learned about Chuck. The shock was wearing off, Mary could tell, and now it was like watching Hannah put together a jigsaw puzzle. She kept repeating facts in a certain order, then reorganizing them. For some reason, Mary felt a certain...affinity for the girl. Sure, Hannah was pretty and obviously a sweet kid on the surface, but something in the way she carried herself spoke of her family background. Even when she slumped, it only held for a minute. Then she took a deep breath, and her spine straightened immediately. Yeah, this kid definitely came from a family of men, and Marines to boot. That kind of confident stance didn't happen on its own. Mary wondered if Hannah even realized the quality in herself. Well, Hannah was her asset now, so the younger woman was about to learn all sorts of things about herself and her limits. Hannah had agreed to participate in this, and Mary had warned her that her life would never be the same. But Mary knew that she either would transform Hannah into an operative, or Hannah would be taken underground once this was done. And forcing Hannah underground seemed like a waste, though Frost couldn't explain exactly why she felt that way yet. But her instincts rarely led her astray.

With that in mind, Mary grabbed her phone and dialed Hannah's room. She watched the screen as Hannah picked up. "It's Mary. We meet in one hour. I'll be at your room in forty-five minutes to escort you."

Then, to Mary's surprise, Hannah looked up at her air vent and nodded. "Okay," she replied.

Frost's eyebrow quirked. "You noticed the camera?"

Hannah shrugged. "I figured, given everything, that it was normal and I should just go along with it. Did I do something wrong? Was I supposed to take it down?"

"No," Mary answered, smiling just a little, "you did fine."

Mary hung up and switched off both monitors. Barker didn't surprise her, but Hannah... She might actually make something out of this one. Oddly, Mary felt like she owed it to Hannah. She'd spent so much time trying to protect her own children from the spy life, and they'd been shoved into it anyway, one directly and one indirectly. The least she could do this time was prepare this kid, train her properly.

Speaking of the indirectly associated child, Mary called Ellie as she finished her own meeting preparations. It rung a few times before her daughter picked up. "Hey, sweetie," Mary said. "How's my little angel been doing in preschool?"

Ellie chuckled. "Clara talks nonstop and tries to climb the walls at the same time according to her teacher. She's her father's daughter, I guess."

"And how is Devon?"

"He's good. Hey, Mom, I wanted to ask you something," Ellie said, her voice dropping. "Did you talk to Chuck yesterday? I called him, but he didn't say much. I know he can get kind of down on his anniversary. I just wanted to make sure he's okay. Maybe I should have flown in to see him."

Mary sighed. "I called him too, and he acted like he was too busy to talk to me. But," she added quickly, "I'll actually be seeing Chuck and Sarah both today. I'll give you a full report tonight if you want."

"Wait, both of them? Why? What's going on?" Ellie made the same sound she had as a child when she was about to start arguing. "Chuck's not about to go on missions again, is he? He is, isn't he? Is that why that General Beckman woman had me review this new Intersect update? So the CIA can fill his brain with God-knows-what and send him God-knows-where again?"

An update? That was news to Mary, and she didn't like getting her intel secondhand. Especially not from her civilian daughter. "When was this?" Mary asked.

"Last week," Ellie replied. "I thought it was weird coming from her, but when that woman mentioned wanting to make sure it wouldn't hurt Chuck..."

"No, you did the right thing," Mary assured her daughter, even though she hardly knew if that was true. Then again, Ellie had been the one to crack the neuroscience behind the original Orion design. If anyone could ensure the upload integrity, it would be Ellie. Now the real question: how did they plan to actually..._install_ this update? "Ellie, did Beckman say anything about your patients?"

"I asked her, actually," Ellie answered as if she expected the question. "Because I thought if they've built new glasses and they're testing them on agents, then maybe we could do what we'd talked about before and give Sarah at least some of her lost time back. She wouldn't tell me though because it's classified, and honestly Mom, I don't know if we should try it anymore."

"Why not? You said it could work a few years ago."

Ellie took a breath deep enough that Mary heard the air blow like wind through the phone. "That was before these patients started coming in. The damage we're seeing in the neural pathways of these people..." A long pause followed, and Mary knew Ellie was choosing her words carefully. "Mom, I just don't know what to think right now, and that general didn't tell me enough to be sure of anything. But I wouldn't risk it. Not yet. Not until I know what's causing this."

"All right, honey. I'll talk to Chuck, and we'll go from there."

"Okay," Ellie added quickly, "and tell Chuck to be careful. I know he still works for the CIA, but I don't trust those people. Please, just make sure he stays safe."

"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to Chuck. I promise. Give Clara a big kiss for me."

"I will. Love you, Mom."

Frost disconnected and finished her own preparations. Too many variables; too much she didn't know yet. She didn't like it, not at all, but she put on her game face nevertheless.

Time to go to work.

* * *

Chuck kept sneaking a glance at his wife every chance he could when they weren't talking. She sat across from him on the jet and spent most of the time either looking out the window or asking him about the missions he'd gone on recently. In truth most hardly entailed as much intrigue as their old team dealt with years prior, but he'd gotten a couple curveballs since running as a one-man show. Sarah looked genuinely interested in those, and Chuck was happy to talk about anything as long as she wanted to listen to him for the thirty minute flight.

He tried to read her emotional temperature as they got into the black SUV waiting on airstrip in DC, but she was still very much the old Sarah Walker he remembered from their earlier days. Lukewarm, but every once in a while there would be a spike, although none as drastic as she'd had that morning. Still Sarah wouldn't understand, not yet anyway, but those little firefly flickers of his Sarah were the greatest gift she could have given him for their anniversary. It meant there was a chance he could get her back, that they could be _them_ again. After a year of almost unbearable loneliness and another of pretending he'd gotten used to it, Chuck would take any part of her he could get. Including his old spy partner. In fact, he mused, that could be great for them. Sarah had been going on missions alone this whole time. Now she would see firsthand that he could be with her, that they could help each other, both as a couple and as spies. He could show her that their formula actually worked despite how she'd been trained, that they could do both at the same time when they were together. That they were _better_ when they were together, in every possible way.

Chuck postponed thinking about Sarah and their relationship when he realized they turned down the wrong street to go to DNI headquarters. He started paying attention to the streets and scenery. He knew the area; he'd made enough trips to various facilities, both known and covert. Still he couldn't quite tell where they were headed, especially once they hit the tunnels. Chuck chanced a sidelong glance at Sarah and noticed she was doing the same thing, her back straight and her eyes narrowed as she looked through the tinted side window. For once he took comfort that she wasn't looking at him.

Only one other person alive knew that, over the past couple years, Chuck had...developed...an almost subconscious relationship with the Intersect program he once considered an intruder in his head. Perhaps it happened because he'd gotten used to it, or stopped fighting it, or maybe it had to do with his own engineering work he'd done in his spare time. For whatever reason, Intersect 3.5 – he'd already performed two updates to the program with his co-conspiring sister's reluctant help – always seemed to run in the background of his mind, like a constant tone just outside of normal auditory range but close enough to know it was there. He still flashed per visual cues, but he know understood what his father had once mentioned, that the Intersect could do more than that. More than even give him a pilot's license or a black belt at will.

Chuck called on it now, bringing a three-dimensional map of the nation's capital into his mind. In less than a second he saw every government building and every marked zone: green, red and black; he matched their route to possible end points; he narrowed down the outcomes – only two had subterranean access and total blackout protocol outside of closed network access granted only once you entered the building, only on tech issued upon arrival and approval. Except his tech of course, although they didn't need to know that.

Chuck groaned and slumped in his seat. This particular operation base and detention facility was his least favorite on the planet. Considering he'd never set his physical body inside the walls of the place, or how cool the place looked above the ground. He'd seen some of the creative activities allowed in the non-Geneva Convention countries, but the pictures attributed to this location, pulled up through the Intersect like a hyperactive slide show put those torture chamber wannabes to shame.

"What?" Sarah asked, scooting closer to him. "Do you know where we are, Chuck?"

He wasn't supposed to know, but he'd bet his annual salary someone was watching, listening, or both. "Nope," he quipped, "but I'm sure they'll tell us when we get there."

Sarah pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. Of course she knew he was lying, and she was about to call him on it. He couldn't let her indicate to an outside audience that he might have this particular intel, for both their sakes. He had to stall and find a way to explain at the same time.

She opened her mouth. Chuck panicked. He jumped up and closed the rest of the distance in their bench seat, cupping her cheek in one hand and putting his other on her knee.

Even as he started talking – confessing how much he'd missed her, that he loved her and he knew they could get everything back if she gave him a chance - Morse Code flashed through his mind, and his thumb began tapping out an entirely different message against her thigh. His sudden monologue caught Sarah off guard just long enough to stop her from talking.

_Just listen._

She looked dumbstruck, then her expression went slack. Sarah's brow furrowed, and she shifted even closer. Her blue eyes connected with his, and she gave an imperceptible nod before she spoke. She apologized for running away from him while putting her hand on top of his on her leg. She was ready to listen. She drew a small check mark on his wrist to indicate that she understood what he was doing.

The superspies lived up to the rhetoric and held two conversations at once. For the remaining few minutes of the trip, an outsider saw Chuck Bartowski spilling his guts about what they'd been through and how he hoped they could get through it. That he didn't want to be alone anymore, that he needed her to stay with him and give him the chance to be the guy she'd fallen in love with, married, and had even considered starting a family with. That Sarah didn't need a memory to recognize what they had.

This wasn't how Chuck wanted to have this talk with Sarah, and the regular guy part of him felt ashamed that he couldn't come up with something better. But Sarah's safety trumped everything else, his own feelings be damned. He could only hope she realized he meant what he was saying out loud too, even if it wasn't his most eloquent speech.

Privately, Chuck explained that they were below the lowest known level of the Pentagon. Sarah asked how they should handle it. Chuck suggested they ask but not pry about the location when the car stopped. They would find out what they could from Beckman about the status of their team and this new operation that required use of the previously unconfirmed Black Site 104. Sarah agreed. She let her free hand run down his chest. She closed her eyes and exhaled; he knew she felt the vest under his shirt. He didn't have to check her to know she always wore hers. Her spare gun was tucked into her boot. He'd stuck his micro-taser in a thief's pocket along the lining of his jacket's lapel. They would compare notes once they were back in Burbank and made sure they could talk unmonitored.

The car stopped, and Chuck intended to give Sarah her personal space back. Instead she clutched his hand an extra second. It was as if another of the partitions between them opened. She smiled openly, gratefully.

"You really are amazing, Chuck."

Chuck would have done almost anything to extend that moment, to use it as an example for what had once come so naturally to them. Instead the doors opened, and he obediently made his exit, joining Sarah next to an elevator door. They stayed silent for the remainder of the trip. Sarah surprised him once again while they stood side by side against the back wall. The door slipped closed and their escort entered the code for their destination; her hand reached over and he felt her finger intertwine with his. He jerked, looked at their hands, then up at her face. She kept her eyes forward, but he saw her tense and inhale deeply. He didn't know if her action marked another small breakthrough or if she was just being supportive. Maybe he would ask her at some point, but at the moment he just appreciated the gesture, the sense that they were once again in it together.

Sarah let go of his hand just as the elevator stopped, and her demeanor reverted back to all business, a pure spy. Chuck followed her lead, schooling his expression as they followed their anonymous escort down the hall and into a small conference room. He noted the two additional doors, one to each side, as well as the table and six chairs. From what little the file Beckman gave him had explained, Chuck had gotten the impression that this operation might include more than the original Team Bartowski. Or maybe there were just extra chairs in the room.

One seat was already occupied, and Chuck couldn't keep the relieved grin from his face. Having Casey in attendance always made him feel a little safer, especially in a place like this. The older man remained stoic as he stood and offered Chuck a handshake.

"You could've gotten a ride with us, you know," Chuck offered.

Casey grunted. "Figured since she stayed over, you'd want your privacy. Plus Walker might still want to shoot me." Then the older man nodded once at Sarah. "How's the headache?"

_Headache?_ Chuck noticed Sarah's scowl. Tension between the two blossomed like a tulip at sunrise. Chuck kept looking between the two, trying to figure out what Casey meant and why Sarah looked like she might draw her weapon.

"It's fine," she muttered after a minute. "I guess I should thank you for not using a bigger dose."

"Wait, what?" Chuck spluttered. She'd said Casey told her about their anniversary, but surely he didn't... Except this was Casey, and if anyone would... Chuck thought back to how Morgan had been acting before Sarah showed up and felt his stomach sink. He spun on Casey. "Please tell me," he seethed through gritted teeth, "that you did _not_ sedate my wife and bring her home for our anniversary against her will."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "I only tranqued her for the flight."

Everything good about the past twelve hours evaporated. Chuck felt like the room had become a trash compactor, and he was being smashed flat. It had been a long time since something hurt this much. Maybe Casey couldn't understand the difference. Maybe Casey truly believed the ends had justified the means. It didn't. Especially not like this.

Chuck swallowed back the shame and disgust. If he wasn't such an idiot, if he hadn't been so happy to see her without considering why she'd be there out of the blue, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Why else would Casey drive her to his place and have her suitcase ready to go? Worst of all, he couldn't even really blame Casey. The man probably saw a problem and did what a Marine does: Casey tried to solve it. And it definitely wasn't Sarah's fault. In the end, it was all on him.

He could hardly look at her as he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Sarah," he said softly. "If I'd known -"

Sarah's eyes widened. "No, really, it's okay," she blurted out.

"No, it's not." Chuck shook his head. His own speech in the car must have sounded like a horrible joke. "I promised you that I would give you time, and I meant that."

"Chuck -"

"You weren't ready." Of course she wasn't; so far all he'd proven he could be for her was an insensitive moron. He ignored the guilt at her thunderstruck expression. "It's okay, Sarah, I get it." Chuck forced himself to call upon his inner field agent as he smiled tightly. In the beginning, he never could have pulled this masquerade off, but he'd learned well from his team over the years. He would shove past it for now and have a nice long date with Johnny Walker later. "It's no big deal. We are spies after all. We'll just... forget about it and focus on the mission."

All professionalism vanished for a split second. "No, Chuck, listen," she said quietly. "I -" One of the side doors opened, and Sarah froze as General Beckman marched into the room. She straightened and regained her composure, but she managed to breathe, "We need to talk about this," just loud enough for him to hear before she returned to spy mode and sat down. Despite that small line she'd let out for him, Chuck almost took a chair on the other end of the table to reinforce his promise to her, that he wouldn't force himself on her any more than he already had and she didn't have to tiptoe around him to spare his feelings. Then Sarah grabbed the armrest of the chair beside her and nearly tripped him with it, giving him a jerk of her head and a look that basically commanded him to sit his butt down right there, or else.

Already confused, it didn't help matters when Beckman's face kicked the 3.5 into overdrive with intel he'd acquired under the CIA radar. Knowing information on the Intersect program and its participants weren't supposed to be in his brain, Chuck dropped his chin onto his chest as he sat down to hide the obvious signs he'd flashed. It wasn't easy. Beckman had quite the history, plus she'd apparently been a busy little agent recently. Still the woman stared at him hard, so he covered the remaining evidence by rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly.

"Perhaps you would like a cot instead of a chair, Agent Bartowski."

"Nope, I'm good," Chuck replied with a manufactured grin. "Unless you have a barista hidden in the walls somewhere."

Beckman rolled her eyes, all suspicion melting from her face. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime," she went on as she tapped something onto her tablet, "I'd like to say, first of all, welcome back, Team."

Casey grunted out, "Good to be back, General," while Sarah just gave a curt nod.

"Thanks, General," Chuck chirped, knowing it would aggravate the woman and enjoying it thoroughly. He'd long ago stopped fearing the woman's bark, after all, and he needed some stress relief. "So, Casey was just saying it must be reunion time, but my bet was on some horrible new terrorist network that only we can stop. Come on, don't keep us waiting. I need that hundred bucks he's gonna owe me so I don't have to expense my own per diem tonight."

Sarah's hand clapped over her mouth at some point, and Casey snorted while Beckman's already thin lips all but disappeared. Okay, so maybe he'd overdone it, just a tad.

Beckman cleared her throat and tapped on her tablet again, this time bringing up an image on the big screen in front of them. Even before she began briefing them, Chuck flashed through the subject's dossier. Melvin Reddick III. Heir to an aerospace empire, inherited after the suspicious death of his parents just after his eighteenth birthday and liquidated almost immediately thereafter. Graduated high school at fourteen, undergraduate studies at Yale completed by sixteen. Concurrent PhDs in Biological and Mechanical Engineering from Princeton. Ex-CIA, including stints with Psy-Ops at Langley, DARPA, and a consulting gig with the CDC. Top level computer hacker, codename WhiteWash. Past visiting professorships at Stanford and MIT. Suspected for being the brains and bankroll behind The Collective cyber-terrorist group, recruiting straight from university lecture halls and the government's own personnel pool before the CIA realized he'd started freelancing and issued a burn notice. No wife, no siblings, no family or other personal ties. All previous known addresses, aside from his childhood home, were either at a university or a government facility. To date, the only picture available came straight from his CIA file.

All past mission information, project files and – Chuck was most curious about this one – his CIA psych profile: sealed and/or redacted.

Chuck probed the Intersect for another moment before letting that tidbit go. To most agents, including him at one time, a file like this one was the end of the road. But not anymore, courtesy of his little secret Beckman didn't need to know, at least not yet. She was halfway through their new bad guy's history, so Chuck took the time to probe the Intersect in a different direction. Every redacted file had an original stashed somewhere. Thanks to the government's incessant need to overspend on defense while playing homage to the electronic records age, Chuck knew the raw files had likely been scanned and stashed on a "secure" database. The trick was figuring out on which server, in which facility, behind what ridiculous firewalls it had been hidden. By the time Beckman finished her rundown of Reddick's resume, Chuck had narrowed the list down enough to have his starting point once he could get back to his lab and the augmented Orion system he'd recreated in his dad's old basement lair. Worst case he'd have to liberate a hard copy from some dungeon that likely ran on the latest Carmichael Industries security protocols.

Chuck switched to the hacker angle instead. The Collective had seemed unusually quiet over the past year, barely making a blip on his radar compared to its Asian competition. On the other hand, chatter had spiked about a new group rumored to be creating the new Wal-Mart of underground weapons development and distribution. Nothing had yet pushed the US intelligence apparatus into action on them. If it turned out those two had some connection however...well, that could be globally catastrophic on its best day. And so far this day had been crap. It didn't bode well as Chuck considered what he knew as a fellow hacker combined with the Intersect's additional pattern mining. All the while, Chuck silently commended Beckman's verbal tap dance around the sealed and/or redacted information that wasn't necessary for them to know for their mission. A quick peek at his team proved they noticed it as well. Casey smirked and crossed his arms over his barrel chest while Sarah peered so intently at the general that Chuck thought those blue eyes might be performing some kind of X-ray on Beckman's thoughts.

Beckman paused, and Chuck raised his hand. The woman pursed her lips. "What is it, Bartowski?"

"It sounds like you've known this guy was a threat for a while but you didn't consider him a priority, so why bring us in now? What's changed?"

"I suspect all three of you have heard scattered intel regarding a new arms dealer setting up shop in Europe," Beckman stated.

Casey snorted. "Some jerk-offs trying to be the next Volkoff Industries."

"Well, from what I've read from that mission," Sarah said, "there would be a huge opening in the market. But it takes years to build up a multinational criminal network like that. From what you've said, this really only started a couple years ago. How dangerous could they really be?"

"It's him, isn't it?" Every eye turned to Chuck, but he hardly noticed. Pieces were coming together in his head, organizing and reorganizing. "It's not a new organization. It's Riddick. It's an expansion. He's diversifying his operations from weaponized code into actual weapons."

Beckman nodded. "Well said, Agent Bartowski. Unfortunately, Riddick had deep connections within the intelligence community. Despite our efforts, he's been highly successful turning some of our best agents to his cause."

"Great, it's Fulcrum and the damn Ring all over again," Casey growled. "Traitor bastards."

"I'm afraid it's very much like that," Beckman said gravely. "Especially now that he's elevated his tactics to kidnapping. We suspect he's responsible for the abduction of one of our finest DARPA scientists, William Hayes."

Riddick's image shrunk to make room for Agent Hayes's photo, initiating another Intersect-onslaught inside Chuck's head. Thankfully between his own tweaks to the program and his second-gen Governor, it ran smoothly. It would take a few hundred flashes in a row before he'd even need his first aspirin. At the same time he perused the scientist's impressive credentials, he listened to Beckman's account of the man's capture.

"And just three days ago, Riddick broke into one of our most covert development sites and abducted a top-level security asset." Beckman paused and looked at Chuck again, this time her expression actually betrayed concern. Oh yeah, this had to be bad. This wasn't Beckman's 'You might not like this' worried face. No, this was more along the lines of 'Sorry, but even I don't have big girl panties big enough to deal with this' scary. Then she dropped the real kicker. "I'm sorry about this, Chuck," Beckman offered.

Then the picture came up, and Chuck felt himself shoot to his feet. By the rattle of wheels on a hard floor to his left, Casey had done the same thing. The Intersect ran again, but it didn't tell Chuck much history he didn't already know, having learned it from the man himself nearly five years earlier. It did however provide him some interesting facts about the how the CIA had been using him since his detention. The extra information just added to the guilt Chuck already felt bearing down on him like a rush hour bridge collapse.

Sarah broke through the heavy silence. "I'm sorry, General, but who is that exactly, and why is he so important?"

"Name's Manoosh," Casey growled, but even Chuck could hear the man was rattled, which alone was terrifying. Still he let Casey continue, because Chuck wasn't sure he could speak yet. Every word he might offer felt jammed up behind his Adam's apple. Casey shook his head, his eyes locked onto the monitor in front of them. "He was Chuck's asset a few years ago," the older man went on. "He contracted with the Ring to make them a weapon. He ended up trying to hock it on the open market instead. We intercepted him and put him underground."

A very Hallmark way to spin the story, Chuck mused, trying not to vomit as he considered what method of torture Riddick was probably subjecting Manoosh to at that very moment. That situation and that choice still haunted Chuck from time to time. Now it just felt like another mistake thrown right in his face.

"What kind of weapon?" Sarah asked, still looking confused until she looked closer at Chuck. Her own unease began to show. "Chuck, I haven't read that file, and you know I don't remember." When he still didn't respond, she rose to her feet as well, grabbed his chin and turned his face toward hers. "Come on, Chuck, please talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"This is all my fault," Chuck murmured.

"Chuck, look at me," Sarah implored. Because it was Sarah, he finally obliged. "What kind of weapon was it?"

"Intersect glasses. He reverse-engineered a pair of Intersect glasses and the image encoding for offensive skill training."

Sarah gasped, and her grip on Chuck's face tightened until it was almost painful. "Did he know, Chuck? Did he know about you being the real Intersect?" Chuck shook his head, and Sarah exhaled quickly. When she recomposed herself, she gave his chin another rough shake to make him focus on her again. "Chuck, listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault. If he could build a new Intersect, then you did the only thing you could do."

"No," he finally managed through the fog. "Sarah, you don't remember, but you pretended to spend the night with him, and I pretended to be his friend. I even made him think I was letting him go free before I handed him over. He trusted us. He trusted _me_, Sarah! And...I lied straight to his face, and then I burned him. If I'd let Manoosh go -"

He felt a hand at the scruff of his neck grab a fistful of shirt, jacket, and a few hairs before being tossed back into his chair like a doll. When he reoriented himself, he found Casey towered over him.

"I could tell you that if you'd let Manoosh go," Casey said almost too calmly, "then he'd have been captured long before now by the Ring, or Volkoff, or the Belgian, or any one of a hundred other terrorists. And he'd have already been tortured into making a new Intersect system. Then he'd probably be dead. If he was lucky." Casey stepped back. "Fact is none of that would have happened. You saved him in Dubai, Bartowski. I was two seconds from putting a bullet through his head when you knocked him out, because I thought you were too soft or too stupid to handle him." Casey took a deep breath. "But you manned up and did the right thing. Now we have to do it again. Simple as that."

Chuck wanted to tell them that no, he couldn't do it. But there was another part of him that knew he had to find Manoosh. That the owed Manoosh nothing less than saving him at the very least. Still, there was something else that ate at Chuck, and at that moment he didn't really care about what intel he was and wasn't supposed to know.

"General, what happens to Manoosh if we do find him?" Chuck asked, ignoring the General's displeased expression. "Do you plan to keep using him to rebuild the Intersect project? Or will he be considered too high risk now that he's been captured from right under your nose?"

He definitely caught her off guard with that one. General Beckman's face went from annoyed to blatant ire. "How do you know -"

"I just do," Chuck cut in. A warning look from Casey helped Chuck reign it in for the moment. The best lies came from a place of truth, right? "You said yourself that he was taken from a top secret development facility. What else would the government have him working on all this time?" Chuck let that sink in and hoped the logic held. "Am I wrong?"

Beckman remained statuesque almost too long before she relaxed slightly. "I can't discuss the details of his work," she replied, but the slight slip of her head gave the answer she apparently could not out loud. "Manoosh's status after his safe return is not your mission, Agent Bartowski. His safe return, as well as the retrieval of Agent Hayes however, is a top priority item among the tasks we require to successfully complete this operation."

Chuck heard Casey growl in a tone that betrayed disagreement with that priority. General Beckman snapped a glare at the older man. Casey stood at parade rest and clamped his jaw shut in response, but Chuck heard the telltale crack of Casey's knuckles behind the man's back.

Already emotionally drained and wishing now that he'd at least caught a cat nap, Chuck slumped in his seat. All attempts at remaining businesslike would be wasted anyway, so Chuck didn't bother.

"So what else is on our to-do list? Arresting Riddick is a gimme, so let's see..." Chuck began counting each point on his fingers. "Make sure he doesn't have a blueprint to build the ultimate spy shades already. Check for intel on known associates, buyers, suppliers, or double-agents that may still be within the agency, especially co-conspirators to the kidnappings. Find his weapon development plants and drop bunker busters on them. Tag a big transaction so we can freeze his bank accounts. Reroute another to damage his reputation with a high-profile and preferably vindictive buyer. Infiltrate the Collective and confirm what cyber nasties they've been cooking up to go along with those shiny new missiles." Chuck inhaled finally. "That about cover it, General? Because I have to be honest. I know we're the best, but that's a pretty long list, even for us."

General Beckman's eyebrow twitched. "I'm aware of that, Agent Bartowski. That's why we've chosen a second team to assist you on this assignment."

That dispelled the mystery of the other three chairs. Chuck sighed. On the one hand, it would help to spread the load around and hopefully free his team to focus on getting to Manoosh and the other captive. On the other, he rarely meshed with other field agents. Even now, he disliked the near robotic attitude he'd seen in most of his peers at the CIA. A hive mind with a license to kill just never blended well together as far as Chuck was concerned, and he'd seen plenty of reports, even from his desk, to reinforce that particular belief. Maybe he could talk Casey into breaking them in...

Sarah stiffened. "Will they work with us directly or independently?"

"A bit of both," Beckman explained. "However overall operational authority will ultimately fall to Agent Bartowski. I assume you can handle that?" she asked icily.

Chuck blinked several times. He wasn't just called in for his tech savvy or as the Intersect? He was actually_ leading_ the operation? "Yes ma'am," he replied, trying to hide his relief at the first decent bit of news he'd gotten all morning. It also meant he couldn't just go through the motions. He actually had to pull himself together. Chuck repositioned himself in his chair to look a little more leader-ish.

"Good," she snapped. "Also, considering the nature of this operation as well as Chuck's need flash too often to avoid suspicion, we've chosen from a select group of people whom..." the general glanced at Sarah for a split second, "most of you already know, and most of whom were already aware of Chuck's real identity, as well as his status as the human Intersect, before accepting this assignment."

Chuck balked. Even after all these years, that was a _very_ short list. Beckman, obviously not. And the general would never risk exposing an operation at this level to the overenthusiastic whiles of Morgan. He could scratch Devon off from the get-go. Ellie would have deafened him already from freaking out. And Ellie couldn't be included either, because she would have told him, even if she'd been sworn to secrecy by God and the President at the same time. With those four already eliminated, he could use his hands and have fingers left over. Too few candidates fit both criteria, of him knowing them and them knowing him.

Thankfully, or so Chuck believed, Beckman didn't keep them in suspense for long. With another tap on her tablet, the first photo came up. "I believe you remember Agent Barker," Beckman began. "He will run point for the second team and coordinate with Agent Bartowski on mission details and logistics."

Chuck laughed under his breath. He didn't know whether to be really grateful or worried. Barker was a whole different caliber of spy, one of the real superhero type good guys. Normally Chuck would be ecstatic to work with Barker again, and as an equal this time. Then again... Chuck looked over at Sarah, who was studying the screen curiously. _At least Sarah doesn't remember him either_. Chuck pushed back that jealous tweak for the moment even as he fiddled with his wedding band. He was leading this group, so he had to put petty insecurities aside. And from that standpoint, he'd take Cole Barker right beside Casey as the man watching his back any day. This time, though, he could actually return the favor.

Another tap-tap, and Chuck's mouth fell open. "Mom? You called my mom in for this?" he cried.

"Agent Frost will provide communications support and is invaluable from her years of deep cover field experience in Volkoff Industries."

"Well yeah," Chuck agreed hesitantly, "but still...I can't give orders to my mom."

"Yes, Agent Bartowski," Beckman ordered almost like it was a demonstration, "you can and you will."

Chuck grimaced as Casey nudged his arm and snickered, "Man up, Bartowski," under his breath. Sure, that was easy for them to say...

Beckman shifted, never a good sign. "The final member is a recently acquired civilian asset who specializes in computer programming, combinatorics, intelligence analysis, and code breaking. She's been fully briefed on the Intersect program as well as the original Orion systems."

"Wait, I thought you said all of these people knew Chuck was the Intersect before this mission," Sarah interrupted. "Now you're saying not only is this person finding out about the human Intersect, but it's not even an agent?"

Chuck almost felt more than saw Sarah in his periphery, looking to him to support her face-value relevant argument. He wanted to do it too, but he caught himself leaning forward and studying the screen instead. Beckman still hadn't revealed Contestant Number Three, and Chuck began to hope she never would. It kept rolling around in his head, the little mention about a specialist in Combinatorics. At Stanford, that was a rare and brutal group of classes. He'd considered taking the intro course but forewent it for a rowing elective with Jill and Bryce. But there was someone...

The first memory shoved its way to the fore, even though he desperately wanted to deny it any playback time.

"_Have you ever restarted a server from the backup database?"_

"_Oh, now you're just insulting me..."_

"I said most," Beckman clarified, working almost as a pause function inside Chuck's head. "Unfortunately we have no one within any agency that has comparable hacking skills or Chuck's natural ability to discern new and complex computer languages created by groups like the Collective. This asset excels at both."

Just like Hannah. Too much like Hannah.

Of course he didn't realize that he might have insulted her, if Hannah hadn't doctored her resume a bit to omit just how overqualified she was for the Nerd Herd. He found out during their first movie room rendezvous after saving her life, never mind that it was his fault she almost died in the first place. But at that time he forgave himself because he was learning to live with the biggest mistake of his life, choosing to be a spy over the woman he'd thought he would do literally anything to be with. The woman he should have run away with when she gave him that once-in-a-lifetime chance he'd waited two years for. He'd honestly accepted that, as Shaw moved in, he'd lost the only chance a guy like him would ever get with a woman like Sarah Walker. And Hannah was everything he may have wanted in another life, where he was still a fairly normal guy... The second memory intruded against his will.

"_You know, you pulled that first museum backup pretty fast for a newbie," he teased between kisses._

_Hannah giggled against his neck. "Well, the truth is I can do that in my sleep, Boss. You'll have to do way better than that."_

_Chuck shifted just enough to look her in the eye. "Oh-ho, do I detect a challenge, young grasshopper?"_

_She lifted her head and smirked. "Bring it, big guy. I can take you, even if you are the Piranha." He raised an eyebrow; she copied it. "Morgan told me," she confessed. Then her lips twitched. "Wanna know my old handle?" Chuck hummed an affirmative. She took a deep breath. "Don't be mad. It's M_S_G."_

_Chuck gaped at her for real. "Are you kidding me? You're not serious..." But he could see immediately that she was. He floundered for a second before whining, "You know how long it took me to get the Stanford supercomputer going again after your little sleeper worm dug into our servers?"_

"_But _you_ fixed it," she offered sweetly. "That's more than you can say for anybody else. The rest of my victims had to replace hardware. Even those jerks at MIT. It's a compliment really."_

_Chuck studied her face; he felt like he could watch her forever like that. "Wait, I thought that bug came from some rogue math geek."_

_She playfully demurred. "I admit it; I'm a bastard child, a traitor. I'm a computer nerd _and_ a math geek."_

_Chuck over exaggerated his fake horror. "No...not Combinatorics." She nodded. "Oh, the shame..." he moaned as she swallowed it up with another kiss..._

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut and heard Beckman tapping one last time on her tablet. He prayed when he opened them, someone else's face would be on that screen. His stomach lurched when he heard Casey groan a soft, "Oh boy..."

He started shaking his head, even as he felt Sarah touch his arm. "Chuck? What's wrong? Do you know her? Who is she?"

Another flop when he heard the opposite door open and footsteps enter the room. He felt the squeeze on his shoulder, felt hair on his neck.

"Chuck," his mother whispered in his ear, "it's okay. This is what's best for the mission."

He didn't give a damn about the mission. He'd ended things with Hannah to keep something like this from ever happening, because he'd realized while dating Hannah that regular life and spy life didn't combine; they collided. Rudely and painfully. He wasn't a regular guy, he didn't want to be normal anymore, and he couldn't inflict his life on a civilian, no matter how much he cared about her. If he'd graduated from Stanford uninhibited, had never crossed paths with the Intersect or the CIA, and had still ended up on that flight to Paris... He would never know what might have been. But that wasn't his life. And of course there was Sarah. In the end, Shaw or no Shaw, on the run or as the spy couple they became shortly thereafter, it was Sarah. It had always been Sarah.

Sarah cupped his cheek and turned him towards her, so he finally opened his eyes. He kept his gaze directly on her face. She frowned. "Chuck, you're starting to scare me. Are you okay?"

Did he have a choice? He inhaled very slowly and finally looked up. And it was just as bad as his mind's nightmare scenario. Hannah's smile beamed down at him. At some point he'd apparently stood and rested both palms on the smooth table top, so when he lifted them, he could see the smoky prints left behind.

He could tell Sarah was about to ask him if he was okay, again, and even a sneak peek at Casey eluded that he was about to do the same. So Chuck nodded and muttered, "Yeah, sorry. I'm good. Just...more tired than I thought, I guess."

But he wasn't good, not even remotely. He was the complete opposite of good. But Beckman was staring daggers at him, and Sarah was getting antsy. Not to mention what Barker must be thinking about his so-called operation leader. Chuck wasn't sure where he dug it up from, but he straightened his back and forced the bile back down his throat. He swiveled his head around a dozen degrees or so.

There she was, hugging herself with one arm in the corner. To her credit, she looked relatively calm, considering. Then, incredibly and devastatingly for Chuck, Hannah lifted her free hand and waved just like she had the first time she walked into his BuyMore. At least she didn't smile this time, because he damn sure couldn't return it.

Chuck could only close his eyes once more, just to savor a moment of pitch black while wondering just how the hell he managed to collect so many of his past failures in one place in a single day.

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** Answer: If you said, "He's a brilliant character actor," you are correct. Give yourself a cookie. Don't get me wrong, this isn't meant as a bad thing. My challenge is that, although Chuck is a fictional character, Zachary Levi gave that character a veryspecific skin. The writers' dialogue only told half of Chuck's story. (Yes, I know the man said several times that he didn't really have to act for the role, but by mid-Season Three, I don't care what Mr. Modesty may have said, there was definite acting involved, even if it was just in tipping the nerd-to-spy ratio and all that fight choreography.) The other half was non-verbal, all facial expressions and body language. It's a great pleasure to watch, but it's hell to try to write and capture the Chuck character the way I see him in my mind.

Plug Alert: Speaking of Zachary Levi, he's got a very short video up that popped up on my Facebook feed about his Nerd HQ project at SD Comic-Con. I share this in the fan-powered spirit of the show, plus I'm a sucker for anything that goes to a good cause and is fun at the same time. If you haven't seen it and you're so inclined to participate in any way you can as I have, check it out: wwwDOTiwantmynerdhqDOTcom. Sorry, the site doesn't like urls. :p

Now back to the fic. Wow, many of you smelled trouble brewing fast. Rest easy. One, I'm of the opinion that Cole is more loyal than horny. I believed that when the character entered the show and kindly asked Chuck about Sarah's availability before making his move the first time. Also, my take on him was that he did truly like and even respected Chuck by the end of their adventures. Given their more equal status now, Cole would be more likely to help Chuck win back Sarah than screw him over. I am writing him as such.

Secondly, I desperately wanted some closure on that relationship for the Hannah character. A couple people mentioned Hannah's rather abrupt and seemingly useless inclusion in the show. I humbly disagree. Whatever the writers' intentions, Hannah was actually the most important of the exes for me. Jill was a bad guy; she ended the relationship on that fact alone. Lou was okay, but the CIA basically ended that relationship. They were pure obstacles and highlighted the period when Chuck loved Sarah, but also yearned to be a normal guy again and couldn't yet reconcile those two things. Hannah came into Chuck's life at a whole different point, and left it in a very different way. I always perceived Hannah as much less of a roadblock and more of a real choice for Chuck (and Sarah), and that alone made Hannah valuable to me.

Otherwise, it's Chuck and Sarah. It just has to _be_.

If you actually read all this, take another cookie. And an age-appropriate beverage of your choice... I already finished off a Heineken just rambling away. I'll shut up now. Finally. :)


End file.
